


The Fire of A Thousand Suns

by amphitrite



Series: Supernova [1]
Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra, Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, First Time, Future Fic, Infidelity, M/M, Non-Chronological, Older Characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-16
Updated: 2012-10-09
Packaged: 2017-11-10 02:06:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/461061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amphitrite/pseuds/amphitrite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On a sweltering summer night, Avatar Aang and Fire Lord Zuko discover their mutual attraction. But Aang marries his childhood sweetheart Katara, a slight Zuko spends years struggling to accept. Until one day, an older, wearier Aang shows up in the Fire Nation and tells Zuko that he's left Katara.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_**Present day, ASC 138** _

Three weeks after Tenzin turned eighteen, his parents announced their separation.

His father and mother had been together for thirty-eight years and married for thirty-two. They had raised three children, lavishing upon them the love and guidance that they had received in their early childhood, before extreme circumstances had forced them to grow up too quickly. The bond Aang and Katara shared, born in a time of war and allowed to flourish in the world they had saved together, was steadfast, loyal, and interminable — or so Tenzin had believed.

Aang declared the news with solemn straightforwardness characteristic of his later age. The once cheerful, reluctant hero had grown into a serious man, a change rooted in the difficulty of maintaining peace and healing the wounds sowed by the Hundred Year War, some deeper than he and his friends had ever imagined. Diplomacy had quickly worn away at his childish innocence. But with his children, Aang mostly maintained his cheer and love of goofing around. Kya and Bumi had inherited those qualities, but from an early age Tenzin had admired the authority his father held as a considerate but serious leader. All his life, he had striven to emulate that calm strength and to command that kind of respect.

“Dad, you can’t be serious!”

Kya had shot up in her seat in horror, to nobody’s surprise. Kya was always the first to react to anything, constantly wearing her heart on her sleeve. Tenzin thought briefly of her wild and impetuous adolescence years and winced. He hoped she wasn’t upset enough to destroy any property through her waterbending prowess.

“Sit down, young lady,” Katara ordered. “Let your father speak.”

“Yeah, Kya,” Bumi said in a stage whisper, poking her in the ribs. With a glare, she smacked his hand away.

Accustomed to the antics of his children, Aang continued as if he hadn’t been interrupted. “I know you’re upset, Kya. But I am serious. Your mother and I need some time to ourselves. We’ve been together for so long, and we love each other so much. But some space will be good for us. It will be good for all of us.”

He covered Katara’s hand on the table with his and squeezed it fondly with a smile. Always one to observe before judging a situation, Tenzin watched the exchange with morbid curiosity: His mother simply stared at the hand without smiling back. A sinking feeling overtook his stomach. Was there something his parents weren’t telling them? Had Aang talked Katara into a separation that Katara did not want?

But Aang did not seem to notice anything awry.

“I will be leaving the United Republic for a time. I must deal with some unfinished business,” he said cryptically. “You are all of age now. You don’t need your doddering old man around anymore.”

“Aw, Dad, don’t say that,” Bumi said with a grin. “We’ll love you even when we have to feed you and clean up after you.”

Aang laughed. Good old Bumi, Tenzin thought proudly. His eccentric and completely inappropriate older brother irritated the hell out of him most days, but if there was one thing Bumi was good at, it was brightening up an uncomfortable moment. Even Katara smiled at his words.

“I’m going to go visit the Southern Water Tribe,” she said. “Which reminds me. Kya, I would like you to join me.”

Kya wrinkled her nose. “Why me? Why not these dweebs?” She motioned to Bumi and Tenzin.

Katara’s brows creased in a frown. “You know very well that Bumi gets shipped out at the end of the week and Tenzin will soon return to Republic City University,” she said sharply.

“Yeah, yeah,” Kya grumbled. “I’ll think about it.”

“That’s all I ask,” Katara said.

“Great,” Aang said happily and almost nonchalantly clapped his hands together with satisfaction, as if he hadn’t just dropped an enormous bomb on his family. He stood up and kissed his wife on the cheek. “I’m going for a walk. I’ll be back for dinner.”

Kya and Bumi cleared out almost immediately, engaging in an argument within the thirty seconds it took walk out of the room. Tenzin watched his father go and his mother stare after him with her hands clenched in her lap. Old age was suddenly apparent in her features — worry lines, weary eyes, slumped shoulders. She had shrunken steadily as he aged and shot upward like a hyperactive sprout.

“Mother,” he tried. There was no use disguising the concern in his voice. Katara always saw past his attempts at suppressing his sometimes overpowering emotions.

“No, Tenzin,” Katara said gently. “We’ve made our decision.”

“Maybe,” Tenzin said carefully. “But is it a mutual one?”

Katara stiffened visibly, pressing her lips in a straight line.

“Yes,” she said. “I’ve kept him long enough.”

With that, she rose from her knees and left a puzzled Tenzin at the table.

*

Tenzin sensed his father’s approach before he saw him, Aang’s step always light but purposeful on the ground. He marked his page with the orange leaf serving as his bookmark and closed the history book he was studying, setting the heavy tome beside him. Aang joined him under the tree, looking exhausted.

“How are your studies going, Tenzin?”

Tenzin looked at him thoughtfully. He severely doubted that his father had come to find him just to ask him about school.

“They’re okay,” he said. Aang made a humming noise of approval and picked up a leaf, twirling it between his fingers before letting it float away in the wind. A deafening silence rested between father and son. Patiently, Tenzin let his father gather his words as he stared at the sun glowing above the majestic curve of the mountains in the distance.

“You didn’t say anything earlier,” Aang said finally. So there it was. Aang wanted to know how he felt about the news.

Tenzin shrugged, not sure what to say. “The decision has been made. It’s not up to us to dictate what you and Mother do.”

“Yes,” Aang said, “but your support would mean a lot to me.”

Tenzin looked at the man he so admired and noted that, like Katara, Aang was showing signs of age and fatigue. It scared him more than he liked, the thought of his parents growing old. And now without each other? The idea seemed ridiculous and grieved him to imagine.

Carefully, he said, “What I don’t understand is why.”

Aang sighed and spoke slowly, almost pained, as if the words were not ones he was accustomed to or comfortable with speaking aloud. It was not often Tenzin witnessed such uncertainty in his father’s demeanor.

“I love your mother very much,” Aang began. “She has put up with so much throughout the years. She has done a wonderful job raising you all, and every day I wish I were as strong as her and always followed my convictions.

“Tenzin, many years ago, I almost left your mother. It was when we were dating. On a visit to the Fire Nation, something happened that convinced me I could no longer be with her. But you know your mother. She would have none of it. She forgave me for the wrong I did her and asked me to marry her.” Aang smiled wryly. “We were all so young and so foolish. But I don’t regret it for one second.”

There were many gaps in this strange and surprising story, Tenzin knew, but he let his father continue. He had a feeling that Aang needed this more than he did.

“The thing is… Your uncle Zuko and I…” Aang swallowed, eyes darting to Tenzin nervously before skittering away. Tenzin had no idea what Uncle Zuko had to do with anything but knew his father was doing his best to explain. “Zuko and I are the best of friends. You know that.”

Everyone on the planet knew about the legendary friendship between Avatar Aang and Fire Lord Zuko. Every child learned in primary school that it had been their willingness to work together that had ended the Hundred Year War, enabled war-torn nations to heal and rebuild themselves, and spread peace across the lands. Songs and nursery rhymes had been written about their epic alliance.

Tenzin was fond of Uncle Zuko, who had been a regular fixture in his childhood, since Aang insisted on taking his children to visit the Fire Nation twice a year. Tenzin would never tell anyone, but he knew that Uncle Zuko liked him best out of Aang’s three children. Famous for his quick temper, Uncle Zuko was not very good with children — especially rambunctious ones like Kya and Bumi — but Tenzin had never been much of a child. He enjoyed talking to Uncle Zuko about politics and art and philosophy, although he had learned early on that history was a topic to be avoided.

Aang took Tenzin’s silence as encouragement to continue. He took a deep breath.

“I’m in love with him,” he said.

Tenzin couldn’t help it — he gasped. But at the sight of misery on his father’s face, he cursed his lack of control and tried to disguise his shock under a neutral expression.

“Father?” he said, mind racing as he tried to recall every interaction he had ever witnessed between Uncle Zuko and his father. He struggled to find something to say. “Does he know? Does…Mother?”

Aang continued, quieter and less certain now. “Zuko told me he loved me a long time ago and asked me to be with him. I hated myself for wanting to. And then, Katara… I married your mother. She convinced me that the feelings were nothing. I wanted to believe her, but the truth was that I never stopped thinking about Zuko. I still haven’t.” He looked Tenzin in the eye now and said desperately, “You have to understand, Tenzin, I have never intended to hurt anybody. Not your mother, not you children, not Zuko. But in my foolishness and cowardice, I have refused to accept the truth and in turn, hurt everyone I love.”

The silence hung thick and heavy in the wake of Aang’s pained confession. Tenzin hesitated.

“You’re leaving us to go to him,” he said. He instantly regretted his words, the accusatory tone marring what he had intended to be a simple question. He had no desire to add to his father’s pain. But it hurt, the thought of his father, such a good man, leaving his mother because he wanted to be with somebody else. Still, if it was the truth, he had to know.

“Yes,” Aang said. There was wonder in his voice, as if he hadn’t quite realized that he had made such a radical decision. “For so long, I have tried to push the feelings away. I had a duty to fulfill, and I love your mother so very much. But you are all grown now, and time grows shorter for me.” Tenzin noticed that his father’s eyes were suspiciously watery, but he didn’t say anything. “I am weary, Tenzin. Weary of fighting it. Long ago, Zuko told me that his flame for me would never die. If there’s even the slightest chance of that being true… I have to know.

“Do you understand?”

Tenzin’s mind flashed instantly to Lin, his girlfriend of one year and three months. He pictured her long, dark hair and her eagle-like eyes, steely and sharp except for the seconds after he kissed her, when they filled with soft warmth. His love for her was inexplicable and so strong; he sometimes felt overwhelmed by his fierce desire to protect her from the evils of the world in order to preserve her stringent sense of morality and fighting spirit. He imagined being forced to be away from her but loving her all the same and had to quickly shake off the feeling. It hurt too much to think about.

Tenzin looked at his father now, thinking about all that Aang had sacrificed for his family, all the while struggling to stave off his feelings. He was so strong, and in every way Tenzin’s hero, despite this unexpected betrayal. There was something resolute and fiery in Aang’s eyes, something Tenzin had never seen before. It looked good on him.

“I understand, Father,” he said. “I just want you to be happy. If you believe this is the right thing to do, then I support you.”

Aang's smile was like the first sign of sun after a stormy South Pole winter.


	2. Chapter 2

_**32 years ago, ASC 106** _

“What do you mean the flower arranger won’t be able to make it?”

The decorator winced at Zuko’s raised voice and piercing glare. “Exactly what I said, sir, Isashi’s son has fallen ill and —”

“Then hire someone else, you imbecile!” Zuko roared. “This is Avatar Aang’s birthday! It has to be perfect!” The bespectacled man shrunk a little into himself as he nodded, shuffling through his papers nervously. Zuko rolled his eyes and waved his hands in the air in exasperation. “Well, hurry up! Aang is due to arrive in two hours.”

As soon as the other man was out of sight, Zuko brought a hand to his temple with a groan. Maybe this hadn’t been the best idea. He knew Aang loved parties but had no idea how to host one, so he had insisted on organizing a celebration for his eighteenth birthday. Planning for the event had begun two months previous, and Zuko was completely exhausted. He knew he only had himself to blame, though. He was obsessing over every detail, from the color of the streamers to the drink menu to the waiting staff. After all, Aang deserved the absolute best, and as his best friend, it was Zuko’s duty to fulfill that.

Having spent the morning hovering over the party planners he had hired, Zuko decided to retire to his chambers until Aang arrived. His nerves were a jangled mess of knots, as they tended to be before all of Aang’s visits. The last time he had seen him had been almost four months ago. They wrote to each other regularly, but still, the longer it had been since the last visit, the more paranoid Zuko grew that upon their reunion, Aang would find his company lacking and temper unbearable. He was proven wrong every time, of course, but his mind insisted on torturing him every time.

Part of it could probably be attributed to the embarrassingly intense feelings he had for Aang. Aang, who was a saint for putting up with all his nonsense and always forgiving him when he lashed out. Aang, whose features radiated cheerfulness and youthful vigor no matter how frustrating being a diplomat in a war-torn world could be. Aang, who had fought beside him and helped him put the Fire Nation back together. Aang, who had shot up suddenly, rivaling Zuko in height and ceaselessly teasing him about it. Aang, who had witnessed his darkest moments and stood beside him in his most triumphant ones. Aang, who always caught him whenever he faltered when it came to his duties and his people. Aang, who never tired of reassuring him that he was a good Fire Lord, knowing that he needed to hear the words. Aang, who always tackled him with a hug when he first saw him and held on for a little too long, giving Zuko false hope.

Aang, who had been with Katara since he was twelve and showed no signs of having grown any less smitten with her.

Zuko sighed. Weary of the difficulty of carrying such a heavy secret within him, he had made the decision make his feelings known to Aang at last — tonight, if he could manage the terrifying task of getting the words out. If Aang rejected him, then Zuko logically had no reason to go on in this way and could put the matter at rest. If Aang didn’t reject him… Well. Zuko wasn’t going to go down that road of thinking. Hope was too dangerous an emotion to be toyed with.

But it didn’t mean that he neglected to send a tiny prayer to the spirits that things would go the way he wanted more than anything.

*

Aang arrived twenty minutes earlier than expected, with his old entourage in tow. Upon spotting Zuko, he immediately barreled toward him with his arms outstretched. Zuko couldn’t help but break into a wide smile himself as Aang grabbed him in a hug. As always, Aang was both literally and figuratively a ball of energy, warm and full of life. Zuko hoped it was just his imagination that he felt even taller than he had seemed on his last visit.

Aang held him at arm’s length and looked him up and down. Zuko took the moment to examine his friend as well. Wearing a formal set of Air Nomad robes and a bright smile, he looked every inch a happy young adult, but the generations of wisdom he carried within shone in his eyes.

“You look good, Zuko,” he said. Zuko tried very, very hard not to blush. He had spent an embarrassing length of time laboring over his attire and his appearance.

“You do, too,” he replied clumsily, resisting the urge to pull his friend into another embrace. “Happy birthday, Aang.”

“Thanks for inviting us, Zuko,” piped up a voice beside them. Zuko had barely noticed Katara and the others standing right behind Aang. He smiled at them now, genuinely glad to have company other than rulers and diplomats and his staff. It had been a while since he had seen Aang, but the others he had not seen for much longer.

“Thank you for making it,” he said. “Come on, I’ll show you to your rooms so you can put your bags down and rest after what must have been a long journey. Dinner will be served in the dining hall at six sharp. The festivities will begin afterward.” Sokka let out a loud whoop at that news, to which everyone laughed. Already, the cold, lonely palace atmosphere felt ten times warmer than Zuko was accustomed to.

Aang babbled the entire way about what he had been doing the past few months, keeping everyone entertained with tales of his time in Republic City. One by one, the guests retired to their rooms. Zuko dropped Aang off at his room last.

Aang threw his bag onto his bed and then rejoined Zuko next to the door.

“Where to next, Sifu Hotman?”

Zuko rolled his eyes at the old nickname, though he couldn’t hide the upward quirk of his lips.

“Next, you rest,” he said. “I want you awake at your own party, after all.”

“I’m not tired,” Aang insisted. “We haven’t seen each other for months, and you want me to sleep?”

“Well, no,” Zuko huffed, “but aren’t you tired from traveling?”

“Don’t be silly,” Aang said, grabbing his arm and running back out into the hallway. He called over his shoulder, “Come on, I want to see the turtle ducks!”

Zuko happily let himself be dragged out to the gardens, knowing that he couldn’t deny his friend what he wanted — least of all on his birthday.

*

Zuko was not fond of parties, but he had to admit that he threw a pretty decent one. The party had been going on for hours but showed no sign of dying down. The ballroom was filled with people merrymaking and having a good time. Aang had made many friends over the years, and hardly anyone wanted to miss the chance to celebrate the Avatar’s birthday with him. Sokka and Toph were running a drinking contest in the center of the room, Suki and Haru had commandeered a table and were dancing on top of it, and Katara, Pipsqueak, and the Duke were talking animatedly about something in the middle of a huge circle of people from different nations.

Aang was nowhere in sight, though. Zuko frowned and got out of his seat to search for him.

He found him alone outside on the balcony. Leaning against the gold balustrade, Aang gazed up at the summer night sky, clearly deep in thought. Zuko shut the foggy door behind him and just watched Aang for a moment, taking in the folds of his elegant but simple robes and the perfect curve of his head.

“Hey,” he said softly, stepping closer so that he was leaning comfortably on the bar on his elbows. Aang’s eyes only flickered to him briefly before settling back on the stars, but he was smiling now.

“Hey,” he echoed just as quietly.

“Bored of the party already?” Zuko teased, pretending he wasn’t mildly offended that the guest of honor had escaped the throngs of people there to celebrate him.

“Of course not,” Aang replied. “The party is awesome! I haven’t had this much fun in a long time. I can’t thank you enough for doing this, Zuko.”

“Oh,” Zuko said, pleased. “It’s nothing. But why are you out here, then?”

“I just needed to get some air,” he explained. Zuko nodded, not bothering to point out that it was just as hot out here as it was inside the ballroom. He had been getting pretty overheated himself in there, and he hadn’t even been mingling in the crowd for most of it. Following Aang around the floor had grown tedious after an hour, so he had settled in a chair and been content to just watch everyone have fun. “I can’t believe I’m eighteen now.”

Zuko wrinkled his nose. “I can’t believe you’re only eighteen.”

Aang elbowed him lightly. “What, you’re already thinking of me as an old man?”

“Well, you sure do act like it sometimes,” he responded. “You like tea, you’re always dispensing pearls of wisdom, and you find the most ridiculous things entertaining. After all, I’ve never seen Uncle Iroh get along with any of his White Lotus friends better than he does with you.”

“That’s because I’m friendly, not because I’m old!” Aang protested. Zuko smirked and elbowed him back.

“It’s okay, old man,” he said cheerfully. “You’re looking pretty spry for a hundred and eighteen.”

Aang tilted his head back and laughed. The familiar sound, vibrant and so genuine, warmed Zuko. Aang looked beautiful, happiness lining every feature of his face. He had aged gracefully, retaining the wide eyes but gaining some cheekbone definition and a strong jaw. Although he was no longer a boy, he still possessed the innocent beauty that came hand-in-hand with youth. Enchanted, Zuko wished he could capture him in this moment, the night coloring his eyes dark and the shadows of the flames lighting the balcony flickering across his face.

“Aang,” he started, before he knew what he was saying. “I need to tell you something.”

“What is it?” Aang said curiously.

Zuko’s heart stopped in his chest as the gravity of what he was about to confess suddenly hit him with the force of a rampaging komodo rhino. Was it worth it? What if Aang was repulsed and refused to ever talk to him again? Same-sex relationships were not uncommon in their society, but neither were they celebrated. What if his attraction made Aang uncomfortable? He didn’t think he could handle Aang being disgusted by him. The mere thought of it made him queasy, and he was pretty sure his sweating had nothing to do with the unforgiving nature of blazing hot Fire Nation summers.

But no, that wasn’t right. Aang was Aang. He had accepted Zuko as his teacher and ally and friend despite his past. He would never throw aside their years of friendship just because of some stupid crush of Zuko’s.

Besides, Zuko could only hover in this limbo of uncertainty for so much longer before his obsession drove himself insane.

“I love you so much,” he said.

Okay. That was not what he had intended to say. Mortified, he looked away and studied the grooves in the wall to his left. If he squinted and tilted his head slightly, a set of natural grooves appeared to look like a dragon. Zuko shook his head. Now he was really going crazy. He gripped the balustrade tighter in order to stop his hands from trembling.

Aang wasn’t making a sound. Zuko was too terrified to look.

But the longer the silence stretched, the more indignant he felt. He had just admitted to something deeply personal and incredibly embarrassing, and Aang wasn’t even going to give him the dignity of a polite rejection? What if he had simply left because he couldn’t deal with Zuko’s foolishness?

Zuko risked a glance.

Aang was staring at him thoughtfully, gnawing on his lower lip in a decidedly enticing way that made Zuko’s thick formal robes feel much too warm and constricting.

“Well?” Zuko demanded, even as he cursed himself and his impatience. “Aren’t you going to say anything?”

Aang kissed him.

His mouth was plush, slightly chapped, and utterly delicious. Zuko could taste mangoes and summer on his breath. Shoving his shock aside, he closed his eyes slowly and gingerly brought his arms up around Aang’s waist, slender even under the layers of fabric. The kiss was nothing like he had ever imagined, because even in his wildest fantasies and most realistic dreams he hadn’t known that Aang would be this enthusiastic, wasting no time in stepping as close to him as possible and nudging his left thigh between Zuko’s legs. Zuko’s mouth parted in surprise, and Aang took advantage of the moment to cup Zuko’s face and tilt his head in order to deepen the kiss. Someone moaned softly, the sound almost obscenely filled with desire, and it took Zuko a moment to realize that it had been him. But he had no time to be embarrassed, because Aang’s hand was stroking the back of his bare neck in the most distracting way.

Gently, Aang pulled away and just looked at him, as if he were a puzzle he was trying to decipher. If Zuko had thought Aang was beautiful before, he had no words to describe how wonderful he looked in this moment.

“Oh,” Zuko said awkwardly, dazed. The silence hung between them like a thick blanket of fog. His heart was racing. He was trembling in his shoes. What did this mean? What was he supposed to do now? He knew what he wanted to do, but was this an invitation? How could he get Aang to grab him like that again? Why had Aang moved his leg back?

“Do you really?” Aang asked. There was something akin to wonder in his voice.

“Huh?” Zuko responded intelligently. It was official. Aang had stolen his ability to piece together words coherently.

“What you said,” Aang said, cheeks a positively endearing shade of pink. Zuko was overcome with the urge to press kisses into them. “Did you mean it?”

“Of course I meant it!” Zuko exclaimed. “Why would—”

Aang kissed him again.

Oh. _Oh._

*

“Won’t they notice that we’re gone?” Zuko panted as he fumbled with the knob on the door to the Fire Lord’s suite. When he finally wrenched it open, Aang pushed him inside and pressed him against the wall. The door slammed shut with a gust of air.

“No,” Aang said as he kissed Zuko’s neck. “And if they do, I don’t care.”

“O-okay,” Zuko gasped when nimble hands slipped under the top layer of his robes and began undoing the ties. Aang’s fingers felt wonderfully cool against his heated skin.

“Off,” Aang muttered, tugging at the fabric. Normally, Zuko would be annoyed at that, but he couldn’t bring himself to care about anything but getting the out of their robes as quickly as possible. He undid the sash at his waist and pulled his garb off as quickly as he could. With each article of clothing discarded, he felt more and more nervous. What if Aang didn’t find him attractive? His body was littered with scars from years of fighting and training — not to mention the most obvious one in the center of his chest.

But Aang didn’t hesitate to run his hands up and down Zuko’s sides and across his chest and along his arms and oh spirits, Zuko was going to come in his underwear like a teenager if Aang didn’t stop.

“Now you,” he said breathlessly but still couldn’t help a tiny whine in disappointment when Aang’s hands left his skin to tug at his own robes.

The clothes fell to the floor with little care, and Zuko and Aang crashed into each other in the most perfectly chaotic way. Zuko’s hand found its way down Aang’s chest, sneaking lower to gently cup the bulge in his undergarments. Aang gasped, his hips almost unconsciously pressing into Zuko’s palm. Zuko tightened his grip instinctually and then let go to brush his fingers lightly over Aang’s erection before reaching beneath the garment.

As Zuko’s hand explored beneath the cotton, he nibbled and sucked on Aang’s neck and collarbone. Slowly, he lowered himself to his knees and hooked his fingers on either side of the one piece of fabric left standing between him and something he had dreamed about for years.

“May I?” he asked shyly.

Aang was barely coherent enough to nod. Zuko decided he liked him that way, so as soon as he discarded the underwear, he quickly grabbed the base of Aang’s cock and licked the tip experimentally.

Aang definitely whimpered at the contact. Curious, Zuko looked up and saw him watching him like a hawk. It was such an arousing sight that he blushed. Smirking to hide the fact that he was turned on beyond belief, he covered Aang with his mouth, swallowing him as deeply as he could. He had never done anything like this before, but it was exciting to learn what Aang liked. The hot, wet cavern of his mouth, the gentle sweep of his tongue over his slit, a particular twist of his hand on the base. Zuko soon established a rough rhythm, one that he knew was successful because Aang clearly had to keep stopping himself from thrusting into his mouth.

His hands rested on Zuko’s head, firm but not pushing him. Zuko snuck a few peeks upward as he bobbed on Aang’s cock, loving witnessing the sight of Aang gasping and flushed and knowing that he had made that happen.

Aang’s fingers brushed against the cold metal of the fire crown embedded in his ponytail, and Zuko moaned wantonly as he felt the motion dislodge the accessory slightly. He was on his knees, sucking off the Avatar, wearing the treasured crown of the Fire Lord. It was sinfully dirty and utterly delicious.

Aang must have had the same thought, because he cupped the crown roughly with one of his hands and pushed Zuko down, just a little. Zuko moaned around the cock in his mouth.

“Long live the Avatar,” he whispered as he came up for air.

At the words, Aang jerked abruptly and gasped Zuko’s name and tried unsuccessfully to push Zuko away. Zuko stubbornly kept his mouth on him and rode the orgasm out with him as he simultaneously trembled and dug his fingers into Zuko’s scalp like he owned him.

“Ohspiritsohspiritsohspirits,” Aang was saying, his breath coming in unsteady pants. “Zuko, you’re amazing.”

Zuko ducked his head shyly. It wasn’t every day he received compliments — and definitely not on his sexual prowess from the object of his affections.

“It’s nothing,” he said stupidly, even though that was far from the truth. “I mean, it’s. I’m happy to. If you’re happy.”

Aang smiled down at him, a tender and private smile that Zuko had never seen before.

“Come up here,” he said, tugging Zuko up. “I want a kiss.”

Aang kissed him languidly, but Zuko accidentally brushed against Aang’s leg. Embarrassed, he drew away quickly and tried to distract Aang by sucking on his earlobe, but he was not to be deterred. His fingers shyly pushed back Zuko’s underwear and took him in his hand. His grip was warm, and Zuko’s eyes fluttered shut as he moved tentatively, accidentally brushing his thumb over the tip.

“Bed,” Aang whispered into his neck.

Zuko obeyed.

*

Exhausted, they settled on the spacious mattress, and Aang slung his arm over Zuko’s hips. His head fit perfectly in the crook of Zuko’s neck. Zuko held him closer, tucking his head against Aang’s smooth one.

“Aang,” Zuko breathed into the veil of darkness. He had to know. “Do you… You know… Feel the same way?”

Aang tensed up instantly. Zuko waited, trying desperately to will away his anxiety. Whether or not he liked the answer, he knew that Aang would give him an honest one. And that was what mattered, right? Zuko had gone into his confession wanting to Aang to know so he could figure out where to go from here. And then this — whatever tonight had been — had happened, and more than anything, Zuko just needed his racing thoughts to be put to rest.

“I’ve been fighting this for a long time,” Aang said. An echo of deep-seated shame haunted his words. Then he whispered, “But I think I do.”

Zuko couldn’t breathe. A declaration of mutual interest? This was… This was…

After a beat, he blurted out: “Then… Will you be with me?”

Aang shifted in the silent darkness, the rustling of the blankets like a foghorn in the night. When he spoke, it was into Zuko’s chest.

“Zuko,” Aang said pleadingly. “You know I can’t hurt Katara like that.”

Like a punch to the gut, Aang’s words extinguished Zuko’s hope immediately. This whole time, they had successfully avoided mentioning the elephant in the room — the one that came in the form of the pretty, motherly Water Tribe girl who had stolen Aang’s heart at the age of twelve. But the truth was unavoidable. Aang was with Katara for a reason. Zuko’s fantasies about being the one Aang was truly destined to be with were just that — a fantasy. What had he been expecting, anyway? That after he confessed his feelings, Aang would leave Katara for him? No, he had known that it was entirely improbable, nigh impossible. But Aang’s kisses, his enthusiasm, his heated look of lust and something much more, they had distracted him. They had enabled him to make a fool of himself, and now this night would haunt him for the rest of his life.

He blinked back tears at the thought of being shown intimacy this wonderful only to have it snatched away immediately. It seemed too cruel, after all that he had been through, to be taunted with such a beauty and then denied completely.

“Yeah,” he said hoarsely, unraveling their tangled limbs and turning onto his side so that Aang couldn’t see his crestfallen face.

Aang pressed himself against Zuko’s back and said into the nape of his neck, “Zuko, don’t be like that.”

Zuko closed his eyes miserably. “Don’t do this, Aang. Don’t make it any harder than it has to be, please.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Aang said, reaching for his hand.

“It’s too late for that,” Zuko snapped, moving to the edge of the bed to get away from the burning touch.

“Zuko, talk to me.”

“I told you how I felt,” Zuko said, hating the way his voice trembled. “And you told me how you felt. But it appears that we don’t want the same things. So please. Let us not speak of it again.”

Zuko heard Aang let out a frustrated huff behind him, but he remained silent. He didn’t move away, though.

In the darkness, feeling desolate and utterly alone despite lying in bed with the man he loved, Zuko wiped his eyes and drifted off into a nightmare-riddled sleep.


	3. Interlude

**_32 years ago, ASC 106_ **

Katara was not stupid. So when she wrenched an explanation out of Aang of where he had spent the night on his birthday and found out that he had slept with Zuko, she wasn’t so much surprised as panicked.

Neither Zuko nor Aang had ever been shy about their affection toward each other — although to be fair, Aang wasn’t shy about his affection toward anyone. Still, she had always been slightly insecure about how enthusiastic Aang was about Zuko: visiting Zuko, repeating things Zuko had said, bringing up Zuko in conversations constantly in the most tangential ways. The bond the boys shared was so strong that there was an almost mystical quality to it, and even without this newfound evidence of their physical attraction, she had always seen Zuko as a rival for Aang’s attention. At least this news validated her fears and confirmed that she wasn’t just a crazy jealous girlfriend.

But she was a Southern Water Tribe girl at heart; she was a survivor. For whatever reason, fate had placed the Avatar — the sweetest boy she had ever met — in her lap, and she was not going to lose him to anyone, Fire Lord or not.

Nothing was going to change that, not even Aang’s insistence that he didn’t deserve her anymore and that he needed time away from her to think.

And when he declared that he had to figure out what he wanted and couldn’t do so while being with her, she panicked. Maybe he needed to take a break from her, but she needed him. Even if she clearly wasn’t his absolute priority, she couldn’t bear the thought of not having him at her side. If she gave him the time to think, then there was the distinct possibility that he would decide to drop her for Zuko.

So she did what she knew she had to. She took his hands in hers, and with her heart thumping loudly in her ears, she asked him to marry her.

Katara was not stupid, and neither was she selfish. Aang was truly better off with her. They were in love, and she was doing the right thing in fighting for their future together. In time, he would be grateful that she had prevented him from making any more impulsive mistakes guided by fleeting and impractical feelings. After all, Zuko could never give him the stable life that she was offering him.

That was what she told herself for years, anyway.


	4. Chapter 3

_**Present day, ASC 138** _

The entire journey to the Fire Nation, Aang was a mess of tangled nerves. He wasn’t sure what he was doing, but he knew he had to do something. He couldn’t bear living with his traitorous heart anymore.

For so long, he had shouldered the burden of doing right by Katara and their children, squelching his too-frequent compulsions to leave for the Fire Nation in the middle of the night. The worst was knowing that Zuko would accept him with open arms — a prospect that seemed to dull any guilt he felt about the whole affair. But Katara would never have forgiven him for leaving her like that, and after all this time, he couldn’t stomach the thought of her having to suffer because of him. Besides, there were the children. The moment he had first laid his eyes on Kya’s precious infant smile, he had known instantly that any fantasies about leaving to be with Zuko would never be realized. His children meant the world to him, and he couldn’t bear the thought of leaving them. (After all, it wasn’t until they had all flown the coop that he had even considered seriously bringing up the idea of separation with Katara.) The torture of living with this responsibility while carrying a torch for his old friend was nothing compared to even the worst diplomatic missions, and the pain had hardened the once playful, light-hearted boy into a serious, solemn man.

Aang was well aware that he was far from perfect. Crushing guilt shadowed him in every moment of his existence — in his daily life, when he wrote to Zuko, as he made love to Katara in their humble bed.

And when Tenzin had left for college, Aang had come to terms with the fact that he could no longer suppress his fantasies. Every moment he spent with Katara felt like a betrayal of the worst kind — to both her and to Zuko. So long ago, the monks had taught Aang to live honestly, but for so many years, he had failed to even be honest with himself and in turn hurt the people he loved most in the world.

It was irresponsible and shameful. As the Avatar, he was supposed to serve as a role model for the people of this world, but instead he had lost his way. For too long, he had been held captive by his warring personal desire and sense of honor. And for too long, he had stood at an inescapable impasse with himself.

So here he was, traveling to the Fire Nation, on a quest to reclaim what he had been missing out on all these years.

*

Aang surprised Zuko outside of the conference room. When he had arrived at the palace, a guard had informed him that Zuko was in the middle of a meeting with the governor of a Fire Nation province. Too antsy to sit still, Aang spent the hour before Zuko got out pacing the length of the hallway.

“Aang?!” Zuko exclaimed. “What are you doing here?”

“I needed to see you,” Aang replied truthfully.

“You should have sent a telegraph. I had no idea! If you had let me know, I would have made preparations, cleared my schedule…”

Zuko’s obvious distress made him smile in affection.

“I thought it would be fun to surprise you,” he said cheekily. “Don’t worry about accommodations; I can sleep anywhere.”

Zuko rolled his eyes. “Like I would ever be such an ungracious host — especially for my greatest friend. Come, you can put your things away in my chambers while they prepare your room.”

Aang followed Zuko to his room and dropped his modest sack in the corner. He glanced at the four-poster bed in the center of the bedroom and barely held back a blush, remembering that magical night so many years ago when Zuko had first vocalized his interest and Aang had practically jumped him in excitement. If everything went according to plan, he would be in that bed with Zuko again soon. The thought made him feel giddy, and he suppressed his grin to avoid looking like a lunatic. If Zuko noticed, he didn’t say anything.

They walked out to the gardens, where the turtle ducks still swam in the ponds. Zuko always knew to take him out here the first thing every time he visited. No matter how serious Aang had gotten with age, the turtle ducks always seemed to bring out the kid in him. He could — and had — spend an entire afternoon watching, feeding, and playing with the adorable creatures.

Kneeling down to see the animals better, he noticed a family of them that swam near him, a mother turtle duck and three little turtle ducklings. With a pang, Aang was reminded of Katara, Kya, Bumi, and Tenzin. Already, he missed them. It was silly; they had left for the real world long ago, but it felt different, being the one to leave.

As if on cue, Zuko asked, “Aang, why are you here? Don’t misunderstand; I couldn’t be happier to see you. But is something wrong? You never visit without notifying me well in advance.”

Aang sat back on his haunches and stared at the lily pads floating almost stoically on the smooth surface of the water. He envied their solemn beauty and strength, qualities he associated with both Katara and Zuko. His first love and his last. And he had spent so much of his life hurting them both.

“I left Katara,” he said quietly.

Zuko didn’t say anything. The silence stretched on endlessly, painfully. Minutes, centuries, passed before Zuko replied. Aang was so nervous that he couldn’t tell. The humid Fire Nation autumn air hung heavily between them, and Aang wished for a breeze to sweep away the tension.

“What?” Zuko whispered. His voice was hoarse, quivering. “Aang… Why? Why would you do that?”

Aang stared at the family of turtle ducks, the now-familiar feelings of guilt and dread tangling and tearing at his insides. He felt guilty for leaving his family, but he felt even guiltier for not doing this sooner. And that only made him worse about leaving his family.

“I want to be with you,” he said. “I have wanted to be with you for a very long time.”

“That’s not what you’ve said in the past,” Zuko bit out. Aang glanced up, surprised at the venom in his words. He got to his feet so he could look Zuko in the eyes. He was scowling deeply, and his hands were clenched into fists. They were trembling. This was not the reaction Aang had expected.

“I was stupid. And I had to do my duty…”

“I know, Aang,” Zuko said.”I know. Trust me, for the last forty years, I’ve woken up every morning reminding myself of the same thing. That you had to be a husband, a father. That it was your duty, and that it would be dishonorable to take that away from you. That I had to put my feelings away so I could do my duty.”

“But you don’t have to anymore,” Aang said, taking Zuko’s hands in his. He hated hearing about how he had hurt Zuko. In his heart, he knew, and he thought about it all the time, but it was different hearing it from Zuko himself. It stung so much more. “I’m here now.”

Zuko yanked his hands away, glaring at Aang with unmasked fury and pain in his eyes. “You’re here now?” he repeated incredulously, the words coming out accusatory and anguished at the same time. “Where were you before? Where were you when I couldn’t sleep due to stress from the Harmony Restoration Movement? Where were you when I broke down in the lavatory after your wedding? Where were you when I wanted to crush Kya with my bare hands upon seeing the evidence of you and Katara’s love? Where were you when the man I love told me he loved me enough to sleep with me but not enough to be with me? Where have you been when I’ve woken up from nightmares and have to fight off my demons alone? Where have you been every time the loneliness of this life threatens to crush me?”

“I’m sorry,” Aang said earnestly, struggling to fight off the horrible hollow feeling that Zuko’s words induced within him. “You don’t know how sorry I am for all that I have put you through.”

Zuko laughed hollowly, looking away and fiddling with his sash absently. “Sorry,” he said disdainfully. “I know you’re sorry, Aang. I’ve never doubted that. But you don’t understand. I forgive you for choosing Katara. Spirits know that given the option, I would choose her over a mess like me. But what I can’t forgive you for is giving me hope for so many years only to crush me again and again. And then when I’ve finally given up on this, to bring it up once more.”

“I thought you would be happy,” Aang said, at a loss for words. He was not used to Zuko’s infamously quick temper being directed at him. Not since the days before they had been friends.

Zuko seemed to falter at that. The fire in his eyes died a little, and his scowl turned into a wry grimace. “I don’t know how to feel, Aang,” he said honestly. “I have pined after you for so long that I cannot even process the thought of all those fantasies becoming a reality. It has been so long since I even considered the possibility.”

“But —” Aang protested. Zuko shook his head.

“You can’t just…march into my home and expect me to be here, still waiting for you after all these years.”

The feeling in his stomach had definitely turned into a sinking one. What was Zuko saying? Before, when Aang had rejected him for the second time, he had said…

“You said your flame for me would never die.”

“And that’s the truth,” Zuko said. “But loving someone is very different from being with someone. Then again, maybe you don’t know that, since you and Katara have always been such a perfect couple.”

“We have not,” Aang said hotly, weary of the jabs at his marriage. He and Katara had shared some wonderful times and were good together, but it had hardly been perfect. “How the hell could we be perfect when I could never get away from my feelings for you?”

Zuko snorted. “You’ve always looked plenty happy to me,” he said bitterly.

Aang resisted the urge to stamp his foot in frustration. “You’re being difficult for no reason, Zuko! I just left my wife and children for you! The least you could do is show a little sympathy and give us a chance!”

“It’s always about you, isn’t it,” Zuko snarled. “You act like you’ve done me a favor. But I’ve worked so hard to keep my feelings at bay, to put them away, to master them. And here you come, disrupting everything. I didn’t ask you to leave them! Not this time. You should’ve stayed, Aang.”

His words were like a dagger to Aang’s ribs, and Aang found himself struggling to breathe, much less provide an adequate response.

“Zuko, please,” he said. “What are you saying? Can’t we try? I want to be with you. I’m determined to be with you. Give me a chance. If it doesn’t work, I’ll… I’ll understand, but —”

“I can’t!” Zuko bellowed. “You’re thirty years too late, Aang!”

“I don’t understand,” Aang said sadly. “Zuko, at least… At least give me a reason. Give me one real reason we shouldn’t try.”

“Don’t you know?” Zuko hissed, and the emotions swirling in his eyes were too complex to name and made Aang feel sick to his stomach. “When I look at you, everything hurts.”

He turned away, and Aang saw that his shoulders were shaking. He reached out a hand to squeeze his arm gently and was relieved when Zuko didn’t brush him off.

“Zuko, you deserve to happy,” he said. “After all this time, you’re still torturing yourself and trying to prove your strength and independence. But love isn’t a weakness. And yearning to be loved isn’t, either. Here I am, promising to love you. Telling you that I have loved you for so long. Please stop running from the good things in your life.”

“I need to be alone,” Zuko said bleakly after a moment, twisting away from Aang’s grasp. “Someone from my staff will escort you to your room, and I’ll have dinner brought to you.”

Then he was strolling toward the palace, and as much as he hated feeling so helpless, Aang couldn’t tear his eyes away.

*

_Dearest Katara,_

_I arrived at the Fire Nation safely earlier today. My trip was uneventful, but you know how I enjoy the train rides. The technology still astounds me. Remember the days when we thought traveling on Appa was so advanced? They were good days, though._

_It’s difficult for me to admit that things are not proceeding according to plan. Zuko and I got into a bad fight soon after our reunion. I don’t know why he forces himself to suffer so. Sometimes, I feel like a part of him is still trying to pay penance for the perceived mistakes he made so long ago. I wish he would put his past behind him. Doesn’t he realize that he saved the Fire Nation and that despite the rough patches in the beginning, so many people see him as a war hero?_

_He's more difficult than a teenager sometimes. And after raising three — including Kya! — that’s saying a lot. To be honest, I don’t know what I’m doing, but I know I have to do something. This can’t all just be for nothing. You know that I won’t give up without a fight._

_I love you and miss you. Write soon._

_Best,_

_Aang_

*

“Zuko, you can’t avoid me forever,” Aang proclaimed loudly, leaning against the wall outside of the Fire Lord’s quarters. When there was no response, just like there had been no response to his persistent knocks, he added, “Stop ignoring me. I know you’re in there.”

Silence.

“Zuko!”

Silence.

With a sigh, Aang gave up on maintaining a sense of decorum and began banging on the door.

“Leave me alone!” Zuko finally shouted.

“Nope. Zuko-o-o,” Aang said in a sing-song voice. “Come out!”

“I won’t!”

“Well, then you won’t mind if I just stand outside your door waiting. You certainly can’t stay in there forever.”

“Watch me!”

Aang rolled his eyes at Zuko’s childish tone. He was really too old to deal with this nonsense.

“Okay, okay,” he said, trying to sound unthreatening as he sank to the floor and sat against the wall. “Don’t mind me; I’m just going to make myself comfortable out here.”

There was a silence, and then a lot of shuffling and incoherent grumbling. The door opened a crack and then fully. Before him stood Fire Lord Zuko, looking neither regal nor powerful. In fact, he reminded Aang of Bumi after a night out on the town, acting as if his father had no idea what desperately, painfully hungover looked like.

“Get off the ground,” Zuko muttered. “You’re embarrassing me.”

Aang raised a skeptical eyebrow. “There’s nobody else around.”

Zuko sighed and stuck his hand in Aang’s face. Aang stared at the proffered fingers and then looked up at Zuko.

“Does this mean you’ll talk to me now? It’s been two days,” he whined.

Zuko’s expression faltered for a second before he threw his masks up again. “Aang, you have to give me time to think, okay?”

Aang took the hand in his and used it as leverage to pull himself up. Zuko’s skin felt like electricity against his.

“Okay,” he said. “I’ll leave you alone on one condition.”

Zuko looked wary. “And what’s that?”

“You have to promise that you _will_ talk to me eventually.”

Grimacing, Zuko looked away. “I don’t want to make promises that I’m not sure I can keep.”

“Zuko,” Aang said sharply.

Frustrated, Zuko threw his hands up in the air. “Fine, fine, we’ll talk. Whatever. Just get out of here. Please.”

“Okay,” Aang relented. “But don’t forget: you promised.”

Zuko rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah.”

But Aang knew he could trust Zuko’s word. If there was one thing that Zuko didn’t do, it was break promises. And with that chance at making another bid for the one person for whom he would risk it all, Aang’s heart sang. Unbearably obstinate at times, Zuko would have stubbornly rejected Aang’s overtures if that were what he believed was right. The fact that he had given in so easily to another discussion could only be a good sign for their future together.

Smiling, Aang said confidently, “I’ll see you at dinner,” and walked down the corridor humming under his breath and completely unaware of the way that Zuko’s gaze lingered on him until he disappeared around a corner, and then for a moment longer.

* 

_Dear Tenzin,_

_I hope your studies are going well and that autumn in Republic City is less suffocating than it is here in the Fire Nation capital. I know you love your books and that school is keeping you busy, but don’t forget to do your airbending exercises and to meditate every day. You should convince that feisty girlfriend of yours to join you sometime. She could benefit from a lifetime of meditation — or maybe just relaxing. Then again, seeing so much of Toph in her always makes me smile. It seems that we are genetically predisposed to fall for passionate, spirited souls with volatile tempers. Spirits help us both._

_I love you and miss you dearly. Uncle Zuko sends his regards. Please tell Lin I say hello._

_Love,_

_Father_


	5. Chapter 4

**_22 years ago, ASC 116_ **

Dinner at the Fire Nation Palace was never anything short of a feast. Aang devoured his vegetable stew, salad, and plain noodles with delight, barely pausing to thank Zuko between shoveling food into his mouth, chewing, and swallowing.

Zuko watched on in amusement as he demolished plate after plate, though his smile did not reach his eyes. Aang’s visit to the Fire Nation this time around had been for neither a joyous occasion nor a much-needed respite. He was here to pay respects to the recently deceased Iroh, who had died peacefully in his bed with a proverb about life and death on his lips.

Sokka and Toph were scheduled to arrive early tomorrow. Katara had fallen ill a few days before she and Aang were to leave, and he had almost canceled the trip before she had demanded that he go without her. 

“I’ll be fine with some rest, Aang. You know how stressful it’s been lately with the Northern Water Tribe’s nonsense. Iroh was a good man and a good friend. He deserves our respects. You’ll say something nice for me, won’t you?”

After some pushing, Aang had conceded, leaving the United Republic for the Fire Nation capital. Although he hated leaving Katara behind when she wasn’t feeling well, he had to admit that he was looking forward to getting away for a little bit. Even if it was for a grim occasion. Geopolitical politics had taken a turn for the worse over the past year, and he was tired of everyone looking to him for answers when it came to even the pettiest disputes. He was the Avatar, not a miracle worker.

But spending time with his best friend always lifted his spirits. Already, he felt much better, shifting his focus from his exhaustion and bone-deep weariness to the task of comforting his forlorn friend. Zuko was struggling to bury his grief and failing desperately at it. Aang read every forced neutral expression and too-polite utterance as clearly as he would have if Zuko’s face had been streaming with tears.

After dinner — during which Zuko had barely even touched his plate — Zuko excused himself quickly and quietly. Aang watched him leave, sympathy clogging up his throat. When he had visited in the past, Zuko had been so eager to spend time with him that they had hardly ever left each other’s sides. That he was seeking solitude now was worrying. But Aang respected his unspoken wish to be alone and retreated to his chambers.

*

After an hour of alternating between pacing, composing a letter to Katara, and trying to read the book he had brought along, Aang decided that Zuko had had enough time alone and that it was time to see if he could do anything at all to ease his pain.

“Hey,” Aang said. “How are you feeling?”

Zuko was quiet. The courtyard was cold, and Aang wished he had thought to bring his coat. He sat down beside his friend on the ornate stone bench, tucking his freezing fingers into the space between his thighs. Solemn and still, Zuko continued staring into the distance, seemingly unfazed by the stinging winter air. His eyes flickered over to Aang briefly as the younger man shifted closer, shivering slightly. Zuko made an aborted gesture, as if he had been about to wrap an arm around Aang but decided against it.

“Empty,” he said. “Cold.”

Aang knew that he wasn’t talking about the weather.

“I’m here,” he said.

“Yes,” Zuko said after a moment. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”

Warmth bloomed in Aang’s chest at the words, but his smile faded when he saw how serious Zuko looked. The sight of tears hovering stubbornly in the Fire Nation Lord’s eyes, already red and puffy from days of clandestine breakdowns, made Aang wince in sympathy.

“You,” Zuko said thickly, seeming to choke on his own words. “You and Uncle, you have always kept me going. Made me better. Taught me so much. Believed in me. I… After my mother left, before I met you — really met you, I mean — he was all that I had. I don’t know how to feel whole without him.”

A tear slipped down his high cheekbones, but Zuko didn’t even seem to register it. Before he knew what he was doing, Aang was reaching over with his fingers to catch it before it slipped off Zuko’s chin. Almost instinctively, Zuko reached up to touch Aang’s hand and press it to his cheek. He still didn’t look at Aang.

Guiltily, Aang’s heart skipped a beat at the radiant warmth of Zuko, both under and over his cold fingers. He was so distracted by the sensation that he almost missed Zuko’s quiet words.

“Aang,” he said, trepidation written all over his downturned face. The dim light of the lanterns made his amber eyes glow like molten gold, and Aang could see his thick eyelashes from his vantage point. Even after years of stress and fatigue as the monarch of a war-sundered nation, his friend was so handsome. Azula had been physically attractive objectively (though Aang had not seen her since she had been taken to a sanitarium many years ago), but her beauty was that of a katana — fatal, and remorselessly so. Zuko was full of unwavering grace, with the dignified elegance of the flames that his firebending produced — passion and danger simmering beneath the surface but so masterfully controlled. Lost in tracing Zuko’s familiar features and noting the mild creases at the corners of his eyes that he hadn’t noticed before, Aang almost missed his next words: “Do you ever think of me?”

Aang blinked, confusion creasing his own features. “What do you mean? You’re my best friend; of course I think about you.”

“No, I mean…” Zuko said, clearly fumbling for words. “I mean, do you ever still think of me in that way?” At Aang’s surprised expression, his eyes skittered away, and he dropped the hand that had captured his cross his arms, almost as if he were struggling to hold himself in. “You don’t have to answer that. Never mind. It was foolish of me to bring it up.”

“I, uh,” Aang said awkwardly. He had not expected this topic to be breached ever again — not since he had rejected Zuko and somehow ended up in a whirlwind engagement with Katara. Regret was both too strong and too mild of a word to describe how he felt about those undeniably intertwined events. “Zuko, you, uh. After all this time, you still want me?”

Zuko laughed humorlessly. “You’re a fool if you think it’s that easy to get over you, Avatar.”

“Don’t call me that,” Aang snapped automatically. He hated when Zuko used his title instead of his name; it always sounded too much like mockery coming from his mouth. It harkened back to a time when friendship had not even been an option, much less the co-dependent, indestructibly fierce bond they had forged in the time since.

Zuko remained silent. Petulant. Fidgeting. Aang sighed. He supposed it was a fair question, though he loathed being reminded of the hurt he had caused his dearest friend so many years ago. Spirits, they had been so young and foolish. Aang stood by his decision to do right by Katara, but he wished it hadn’t come at the cost of Zuko’s pain. He saw now that it had been wrong to take advantage of Zuko that night, but he hadn’t been able to resist the greatest man he knew. There had always been an electrifying undercurrent of attraction between the two of them — still was, if he was being completely honest with himself — and back then, he had only begun to understand it. His eighteenth birthday, the balcony lights illuminating Zuko’s features in the most perfect way, it had felt like the right moment to leap without looking. Katara hadn’t even graced his mind. He hadn’t considered the consequences; the only thing that had mattered was Zuko’s fragile confession and how it had set Aang alight, mind, body, and soul. And then he hadn’t been in the right mind to think about anything but how beautiful Zuko looked as he writhed on those fancy silk sheets due to pleasure Aang was giving him. Each kiss they had shared had felt like a promise.

But in the afterglow, reality had sunken in, and Aang had known that he had to do the responsible thing. Though rejecting Zuko hadn’t even been the most difficult part. The worst part had been seeing Zuko’s face fall, as if everything he had ever wanted in life had been robbed from him. He had only glimpsed it for half a second before it was tucked primly behind a mask, but at the sight of that misery — the hopeless misery of dreams being extinguished — Aang had almost taken back his words. Except that would have been wrong as well, and the devastated expression would have resurfaced on Katara’s face instead.

In the war, Aang had been certain that he was in the right; he had known that no matter what he did, he would never sink to the depths of depravity that the Fire Nation practiced. He had recognized right from wrong as surely as he knew hot from cold. But having to choose between the two people he loved most in the world — and who loved him back just as fiercely — had been a moral dilemma he still pondered and doubted, though it shamed him something awful to admit it.

He loved Katara so much, and he was so proud to be her husband. Sharing his life with her provided him with boundless joy. She was caring, compassionate, and so resilient. She was so good for him, tempering him, serving as a voice of wisdom in the back of his mind, even when she wasn’t physically present.

But he would be lying if he said he didn’t wonder at times what his life would be like if he hadn’t turned Zuko down. If, that night, after Zuko’s hopeful inquiry, he had kissed him and held him as they drifted off to sleep, if he hadn’t woken up to an empty bed, if he had gone to tell Katara that he would be staying in the Fire Nation palace from then on.

“I think of you all the time,” Aang said finally, unwilling to disguise the resignation in his voice. “It is not something I’m proud of.”

Quickly, Zuko tried to disguise his crestfallen expression quickly under a pitifully thin veneer of apathy. “Then there is no hope for us,” he said.

Aang’s heart sank. Did he have to go through this again? Say no to something he truly wanted? Hurt his best friend for the sake of loyalty? Not for the first time, he wished things were different. The violence of war he could handle. The impossibility of diplomacy he could handle. The politics of city-building he could handle. But he could not cope with loving two people so much and having to choose one over the other — at the cost of the other.

“Zuko,” Aang said gently. There never was.”

Silence reigned in the small space between the two war heroes as something died in Zuko's eyes. Though Aang could not identify the emotion, he was sorry to see it go.

“Tell me, Aang,” Zuko spoke, so quietly that Aang had to lean closer to hear him properly. “If I had gotten to you first… If I had romanced you before Katara had… Would I have won?”

Aang closed his eyes, every muscle in his body heavy with uncertainty, guilt, and regret. He didn’t want to answer the question. He refused to speak anything but the truth to Zuko, especially in matters of the heart, but he did not want to contemplate what Zuko was suggesting. But he could not simply tell Zuko what he wanted to hear. “It’s not a competition. I’m not a thing to be won.”

“You’re the only thing worth having in this damn world,” Zuko burst out. Aang glanced up in surprise, meeting Zuko’s furious eyes. The anger filling them wasn’t aimed at Aang, though; it was directed inward. Aang tilted his head, and Zuko seemed to shrink into himself. “Answer my question,” he whispered. “Please. I need to know. I need closure.”

“I don’t have an answer for you,” Aang said honestly. “Believe me, I wish I did. But I won’t lie to you to make you feel better.”

Zuko cursed, a string of expletives that sounded unnatural coming from his proper mouth, the royal accent making the words seem filthier than they really were. “You’re so good it hurts, Aang. You’re so good.”

Aang looked down at his lap and closed his eyes briefly. These were not words he wished to hear. He knew that he was not a bad person, but he did not deserve that kind of praise — especially not from somebody who knew his flaws so well (and had known them even before he had learned of his more commendable traits, really). 

“If I were really good, you would never hurt because of me.”

Though their arms pressed tightly against each other, the space between them felt like the endless, yawning chasm between two towering cliffs.

Aang felt like he was falling, directionless. Nothing he said or did was right. It stung bitterly. The Avatar was supposed to be a moral guide for the world’s citizens, but he could not even figure out what was right for himself. Not for the first time when it came to Zuko, he felt intolerably lost.

“I need you like fire needs oxygen to survive,” Zuko was whispering, his voice cracking. Aang could feel him trembling against him. “It’s not… It’s not healthy. I don’t want to push you away. I can’t bear to lose you too. It would break me.”

“You won’t lose me,” Aang said fiercely, because it might be the only thing he could give Zuko with absolute certainty. “Ever. Zuko, you won’t. I swear.”

“Yeah,” Zuko said, and Aang couldn’t tell if he believed him or not. Head bowed, Zuko continued, “My flame for you will never die. But it is time I stopped feeding it.”

Aang nodded in acceptance, though the words left him feeling oddly bereft.

“One last kiss?” he said in a weak attempt at a joke. It came out decidedly less lighthearted than he had intended and much more like a plea.

Zuko looked at him, sadly contemplative. His eyes were so gold and a well of emotions so complex and labyrinthine that Aang couldn’t even begin to untangle them. He could spend a lifetime trying. No. He wished that he could. A lifetime with Zuko…

“Yes, I think that would be fitting,” Zuko said finally, as if he needed to justify it to himself.

Their lips met, and though it was not an Earth-shattering kiss in and of itself, it crumbled Aang’s resolve and rocked the foundations on which he had built his life. It had been ten years since he had last been intimate with Zuko like this, but something about it felt unerringly familiar. Zuko was hot and tender and possessive and terrified all at the same time. But more than anything, the kiss rang of desperation. With his lips and his tongue, Zuko pressed hope and despair into Aang’s very being, the line between the two blurring until it was nearly indistinguishable. The corners of Aang’s closed eyes felt wet, but he wasn’t sure whether the tears were ones of joy or despair.

Zuko cradled either side of his face with unbridled reverence, so warm and so giving, blinding Aang to anything other than this moment.

 _This is what you could’ve had,_ his mind chanted relentlessly. _This is could have been yours._ And then, _You fool. And, You will never get enough of him._

_Never._

Surfacing, Aang gasped. His heart was racing so fast he thought it might leap out of his chest altogether and land in Zuko’s. _Wrapped around his, where it belongs,_ his traitorous mind whispered.

Zuko followed Aang’s retreating face automatically before catching himself and standing up abruptly, putting a proper amount of space between them. Immediately, Aang mourned his warmth and his proximity. He repressed the urge to stand up and pull him into an embrace. He knew it would be accepted too easily, and then who knew what would come of it. He would not do that again, not to any of them.

“I’ll see you tomorrow at the…”

Aang’s gut wrenched at the way Zuko choked on his words. He had come here hoping to help Zuko with his burdens but had inadvertently added to his pain.

“If you need anything,” he said, and found that he too was having trouble finding his words. But he wanted Zuko to know that he was here for him. He needed him to know. “Please.”

Zuko understood. Zuko always understood him, at his best and at his worst. He nodded once, and turned, his hands clasped stiffly behind his back.

“Thank you, Aang,” he said so quietly that Aang almost didn’t catch it.

“No,” Aang said, but his tongue felt numb and useless in his mouth. _No what? No, don’t thank me for hurting you. No, don’t thank me for adding to your troubles. No, don’t thank me for breaking your heart. No, don’t thank me for being your friend. No, don’t thank me for only being able to be your friend._ “Just,” he said stupidly. “Please. I’m here. Always.”

“I know,” Zuko said.

Aang watched him go and felt like he was once again trapped in the ice — freezing, immobile, and completely helpless.

*

When Aang returned home, Katara seemed to have made a quick recovery, her pallor no longer frighteningly ashy. She was still tired and had been instructed not to exert too much energy, though, so Aang spent his first day back at her bedside, reading her favorite novel aloud and trying to feed her soup. She kept swatting his hand away and insisted that she was perfectly capable of feeding herself.

She fell asleep after lunch, in the middle of chiding him about cleaning up the dishes. Aang spent the next hour and a half absentmindedly tidying up the house and struggling to get things sorted out in his head.

After Katara awoke, they had afternoon tea and Aang told her about the funeral. Over a steaming cup of jasmine tea, he told her that Zuko had decided to give up on pursuing him romantically. _So you don’t need to worry anymore,_ was unspoken.

“Well,” she said, and Aang could hear the relief in her voice as clear as day. “Good.”

Aang nodded, not knowing what else to say. He didn’t know if he should tell her about the kiss. It seemed cruel to upset her when she was ill and bedridden, but he hated keeping secrets from her. That he even still had feelings for Zuko felt enough like betrayal each and every day.

But Katara had always been so shrewd. Eyes narrowed, she said, almost hesitantly, “What aren’t you telling me?”

He couldn’t lie now. He had to tell her.

“We kissed,” Aang whispered, staring at his half-finished teacup.

He was not ready for Katara’s reaction: With a shriek, she threw her finished cup at the wall and began sobbing into her hands.

Alarmed, Aang put his own cup aside and reached over to hold her.

“You can’t do this, Aang,” Katara choked. Her entire body was trembling in his arms, and she seemed unable to decide whether to wrench away from him or press further into the embrace. “Not anymore. You can’t just go around doing things like this. You’re with me. If you don’t want to be with me, _tell me_ , and of course I’ll fight you, but I’ll let you go if that’s what you really want. But you have to talk to me. You’re married; you can’t just go around…kissing other people. It’s dirty, it’s underhanded, and it hurts so much that our vows mean so little to you. If you want him, go. Don’t do this to me. I can’t take it anymore; I have so many other things to consider. Things are different now. I can’t do this alone, but I would rather raise a child alone than raise one in a broken family.”

Aang froze. “What? Wait, what?”

Katara lifted her head, eyes stony with resolute defiance as she looked him right in the eye.

“Aang, I’m pregnant,” she whispered.

“Oh,” was all Aang could say.

He had no idea how to voice any of the myriad feelings that had suddenly assaulted him. Shock, wonder, fear, excitement, worry, joy, and sorrow warred within him.

“Oh. I. Oh, Katara, I—”

And with a sinking heart, he thought of Zuko and the question he had posed about winning, if things had happened differently, earlier on in their lives. The thought of relationships being compared in such stark terms had repulsed him at the time, but perhaps he had jumped to conclusions. Because if love and devotion was a competition, Aang knew for certain that with Katara’s announcement, Zuko had just lost.


	6. Chapter 5

> _So when your hope's on fire_  
>  _But you know your desire_  
>  _Don't hold a glass over the flame_  
>  _Don't let your heart grow cold_  
>  _I will call you by name_  
>  _I will share your road_  
>  — “Hopeless Wanderer,” Mumford  & Sons

 

_**Present day, ASC 138** _

A week passed before Zuko felt prepared to face Aang. For seven days, he had vacillated between holding onto his pride and letting go of any concerns just to be with Aang at last. Every time he made a choice, he questioned his own wisdom and retreated reluctantly back into the depths of indecision.

He wanted Aang, just as desperately as he had wanted him as a teenager, and then as a young man — there was no question about that. As the years dragged on, Zuko had felt age and fatigue take a toll on him, both inside and out. He hated spotting new wrinkles on his face or silver poking out from beneath his jet-black hair, although he always tried to find solace in the myriad pearls of wisdom Iroh had divulged regarding old age. Vanity was only partly to blame for his melancholy, though. What really tore at him was the thought that his life was already halfway over, and yet all he saw when he looked into the mirror was a man who had achieved so much but gained so little. He still felt as alone as he had felt as a child after his mother left. There were temporary asylums from loneliness, but he could not shake the feeling that as he grew older, miserable solitude would eat away at him until he was nothing but a ghost, shackled to one place but invisible to those around him. Aang had come to embody a savior of sorts when it came to this anguish. Aang made him feel alive, made him feel like a part of something, made him forget about ever feeling alone in the first place. He had always possessed that exceptional power.

And age had been kind to Aang, sharpening his features and leaving him looking more dignified and wise than ever. He was so beautiful. He would always be so beautiful to Zuko, even when he was speaking of impossible things like being together after all the hurt that had festered between them for too long. Even when he was poisoning Zuko with a hope so strong he had to struggle mind and body not to succumb to it.

But like Aang, it was irresistible, and after six sleepless nights, Zuko lost the will to fight a battle he did not wish to win. Was not his love worth more than his pride? Despite everything, Aang had ended up here. He had taken a chance, a leap of faith, and put himself within Zuko’s reach.

It was not the way Zuko would have wished it. He loathed coming in second, just as he had in the eyes of his father. The fact that Aang had not left until now didn’t sit right with him. If he assented to this, then Aang would have gotten everything: time with Katara, time with his children, and now time with Zuko. It was unfair, when Zuko had spent so many years alone and wondering if solitude was to be his permanent companion, the only one he could count on residing at his side. It was unfair for Zuko to be settling for some diminished version of the romance he had, in his younger years, dreamed about between him and Aang. The harshness of this reality would cheapen that which once could have been the most magnificent conjugation of two souls. And still, Aang would be getting everything.

But that was no way to think, Zuko chided himself. He wanted Aang to have everything. No matter the circumstances, he wanted Aang to be happy. He only wished desperately that he himself was a part of what was necessary to make that happen.

But here Aang was handing him exactly that. A chance to be happy, and to make Aang happy in return.

What could be better than that?

Dreams were dreams, and they were better left behind. What he had in his grasp was something real. And there was the raw truth: an Aang, warm and kind and real in his arms, would always be superior to any Aang he could conjure up in his dreams.

It was not the perfect situation. It was not the ideal situation. But it was Aang, and when Zuko thought back to that young man who had yielded his heart and body up so earnestly, believing that love was so simple — he knew that if anything, he owed it to that younger version of himself to at least try. That Zuko would have done anything, would have moved mountains and razed the land, just to be with Aang. The years and multiple rejections had brewed bitter cynicism within him and whittled away at his optimism, but somewhere in him was that young man, so hopelessly and unconditionally in love that he could never see Aang in an unpleasant light — much less blame him for the years he had spent growing older and even more alone.

It was that young man who spurred Zuko to finally call for Aang to meet him, before he lost his courage and resolve. After he sent the pageboy to pass along the message, he paced his room aimlessly. He smoothed back his hair in the mirror and tidied the sitting area, with its plush chairs and cozy table. He opened a bottle of rice wine, pouring himself a portion in a desperate attempt to quell his anxiety. It was yet too early in the season to require the warmth of the fire, but watching the flames flicker soothed his nerves.

There was a knock at the door, and Zuko took a deep breath before answering it.

_This is everything you have ever wanted._

Aang himself looked uncharacteristically apprehensive. His hands were folded behind his back, and he stood ramrod straight. His eyes were clouded with worry and beneath that, something akin to hope. Zuko inhaled deeply again and steeled himself.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hey, Zuko,” Aang said, blinking fast. He was biting his lip, a nervous tic he had adopted over the years, dealing with tough negotiations and stubborn politicians. “May I come in?”

Zuko nodded quickly and led Aang to the table, where they had shared countless nights of deep discussion as well as laughter.

“Wine?” he offered. Aang glanced at the small empty glass and shrugged.

“Why not?”

Zuko’s hand trembled as he poured the glass. He wondered if Aang saw through his weak attempt at symbolism: Diplomats often traded wine before settling into a difficult conversation.

“Thank you,” Aang said gently, settling into the chair he customarily occupied. He did not speak further, only taking sips from the small glass and staring thoughtfully at Zuko in the dim light.

Zuko, too, took a seat, but his eyes were drawn to the fire behind Aang. It crackled in the silence, and its flames leapt without shame, majestic and alluring.

“I’ve been a fool, Aang,” Zuko said quietly. His eyes flickered to Aang briefly before shying away from his curious gaze. “Who am I to deprive us of something we both desire so deeply? What do we have to gain from the withholding of my affections?”

“Don’t do it for me,” Aang said, still in that delicate tone. As if he were scared of upsetting Zuko. “It doesn’t mean anything if you concede for my sake, Zuko. I want... I need you to want it for yourself. Now is the time to be selfish. After all the hurt and pain that I have wrought upon you so unfairly, with so little consideration… You deserve to be selfish.”

Beloved Aang. Zuko loved him so much, him and everything he was.

 _With Aang, you will never be alone again,_ his mind whispered.

“I want it more than anything in the world,” he said honestly, meeting Aang’s gaze directly. The intensity of his eyes, full of unmasked ardor and desire, sent blood flowing to Zuko’s cheeks. He felt naked under that gaze, as if Aang could see through his clothes and his skin and his bones, stripping him down to the bare basics of what made him — down to everything that had shaped him into who he was today, everything in his life that had led to this very moment.

“Yes,” Aang said simply, reaching for his hand across the table. “I do, too.”

Zuko turned his hand and interlaced their fingers, instantly feeling more grounded. Aang was here, and he wanted to be here, with Zuko. He was offering himself up, and the young man from all those decades ago was doing cartwheels in Zuko’s chest, blissfully happy. But the Zuko of now did not have the means to give in so easily. Traitorously, part of him pointed out that his hurt had not vanished or been miraculously healed by this concession. It still stung to look at Aang and see the man who had caused him so much pain over the years — the man who he had been unable to give up even after all this time.

“Let the past be,” Aang soothed, reading his mind as usual. “We are here together now. Let us bask in the moment — and all the ones that will follow.”

Zuko nodded unsteadily. Keeping his hand clasped in Aang’s, he stood up and pulled his friend to his feet. Throwing caution to the wind, he grabbed Aang in an abrupt embrace, holding him so tightly that he thought he could feel the other man’s bones. Aang was solid and warm. And real. And his to have.

At last.

Tentatively, Zuko closed the remaining space between them, drawing Aang into a gentle, almost chaste kiss. Aang melted against him, bringing his hand up to cradle Zuko’s jaw and letting his fingers slip into Zuko’s meticulously bound hair. Zuko sighed happily against Aang’s lips, the motion allowing Aang’s tongue to slip into his mouth, hot and earnest, just like he remembered from the faded memories he had clung onto so helplessly. 

_No more of that._

“I’m here,” Aang whispered, and Zuko kissed him again, and again. He tried to lead them to the bedroom without losing any contact. They bumped noses, and Aang snickered when Zuko tried unsuccessfully to glare at him as if it were his fault. To shut him up, Zuko nudged him onto the bed and pinned him down to the mattress. Aang stopped laughing immediately, his eyes full of wonder as he reached up to yank Zuko down for another kiss.

“What changed your mind?” Aang asked, breathing heavily.

Zuko frowned at the resurrection of that line of conversation, not wanting to let himself fall prey to doubt again. But Aang was gazing at him so openly, and he deserved an explanation. He was giving himself to Zuko; the least Zuko could do was pay him back with honesty.

“Life is too brief to be finicky about situations,” he said, rolling off Aang to lie beside him, facing him. “While it is true that I would be happier if you had chosen me over Katara all those years ago, it doesn’t mean that I would not be happy with you now.” He took Aang’s hand and entwined their fingers once again, holding it to his chest. And he spoke the simplest truth of them all, the one that haunted him since he was only a boy: “You are everything.”

Aang held him close and kissed him again. Zuko broke it off to nibble along his jawline and lap at the tender skin of his neck, breathing in the sweet woodiness of oolong and tasting the salty tang of sweat on him. Aang sighed happily at his ministrations, and Zuko took his time savoring the moment, committing every second to memory. Finding a particularly sensitive spot, he grazed his teeth against the soft flesh and elicited a soft moan from Aang that went straight to Zuko’s groin.

As he kissed Aang’s collarbone, his hands shifted downward, running along folds of the orange robes and searching for their catches and ties. Aang removed his hands briefly from where they were running up and down Zuko’s back to help discard the thick fabric. The cloak came off, and then the long tunic, and then the slippers. Zuko’s hands skimmed along Aang’s chest and smiled when Aang’s stomach jumped beneath his fingers.

“You too,” Aang said, but got distracted kissing Zuko again. After a moment, his hands remembered their task, and he grasped for the sash holding the robes together. He pushed the fabric off Zuko’s shoulders and helped lift the shoulder piece over his head. Before long, they were facing each other bare-chested and smiling shyly. Encouraged by the hunger in Aang’s eyes, Zuko straddled him, and they gasped simultaneously as they brushed against each other through the fabric of their breeches. Aang arched upward wantonly. Surprised, Zuko let slip a moan at the exquisite sensation. His hips ground down against Aang of their own accord. Not that he was complaining.

Aang reached up and undid the ribbon tying his hair back. Waves of black hair cascaded down his shoulders.

“Beautiful,” Aang breathed. Zuko flushed, ducking down to press kisses along Aang’s collarbone in an effort to hide his embarrassment. Aang stroked his hair and tugged it gently to get Zuko to look at him. “The rest of it, off.”

“Yes, sir,” Zuko teased, reaching for his ties. His fingers fumbled uselessly for a few seconds before he was able to undo the knots. He was nervous; Aang had seen him naked before, but that had been thirty years ago. He had been at the peak of his health back then, and now he was nothing but an old man. What if Aang didn’t like what he saw? What if he changed his mind once he realized what he was getting into?

Zuko’s long pause didn’t go unnoticed by Aang, who nudged his fingers aside gently and took over the task of sliding his pants off. If he knew what was going through Zuko’s head — and Zuko bet that he did — he didn’t comment on it. “Come on, I want my prize,” he said simply.

“Only fair if I get mine, too,” Zuko replied, shoving away his insecurity and tugging Aang’s loose pants and underwear off. He cupped a hand around him, marveling at the feeling of their Aang’s still-muscled body pressed against him.

Aang inhaled sharply in surprise, encouraging him silently by running his hands up and down his back. As Zuko wrapped his hand around him, Aang thrust upward into his grip. His fingers dug into the pale skin of Zuko’s back. The blazing hot hardness of Aang’s flesh between Zuko’s fingers was something he had fantasized about too often over the years. Despite the thirty years that had passed since he had touched Aang in this manner, Aang felt familiar in his hand. He felt _right_. Exhilarated, Zuko tightened his grip, deliberately twisting so that his hand grazed the sensitive tip with every stroke.

With a shaking hand, Aang pried Zuko’s fingers away, clasping their fingers together against the bed. He used his free hand to grab Zuko’s ass with a playful grin. Zuko moaned as Aang pulled him closer, his hips thrusting instinctively. They rutted against each other, kissing intermittently and gasping in each other’s mouths.

Zuko’s fingers clenched tight against Aang’s. Unlike their first raw, desperate time so many years ago, the hot friction was like a slow burn, the glorious feeling consuming Zuko entirely. Keeping his eyes open was a struggle — not to mention maintaining eye contact — but he couldn’t bear to miss a second of sharing such pleasure with the man he desired. Filled with burning lust, Aang’s eyes almost glowed in the low light as he moaned helplessly.

The delightful sounds emanating from Aang’s mouth prompted Zuko to push harder and faster. Sweat and pre-come mingled indiscriminately between them. Aang’s hands were traveling up and down Zuko’s bare skin, touching him wherever he could and striking his nerves like lightning.

Aang tipped over the edge first. With a jolt, he came, crying out Zuko’s name and arching into their embrace. The sight of Aang losing control and the sound of his name on the other man’s lips were too much for Zuko. White-hot pleasure spiraled through him, electrifying every nerve ending and wrenching a long, completely undignified moan out of him. The rhythm they had established was lost as they clung to each other and rode out the blissful waves together.

Feeling indestructible, Zuko whispered, “Stay,” into the delicate silence of the aftermath. Aang smiled and laid his head on Zuko’s shoulder. He leaned up to press a sweet kiss to Zuko’s cheek.

“I’m here.”

*

Sunlight peeked through deep red velvet curtains, striking Zuko in the eyes just as he awoke slowly. Everything felt hazily warm and pleasant, and for the first time in years, he had dreamed a pleasant dream. As awareness began to seep back into him, he noticed that he was naked under his tangled sheets, and that there was a peculiar fluttering sensation against his shoulder, almost like breathing...

His heart performed an impressive somersault in his chest.

Aang lay beside him, pressed against him on his side. His arm was flung across Zuko's lower stomach as if it were the most natural thing in the world. He, too, was not wearing any clothes, and Zuko felt his pulse skyrocket as he remembered the previous night.

Zuko didn't know how long he lay there, just watching Aang sleep and thinking about what lay in their future. The past he tucked away, reassured that he would no longer need to drive himself mad with obsession over it. All the years of longing, of hurt — he would never forget them, but he no longer felt compelled to cling onto them, either. He didn’t need to prove anything to anyone, especially not to himself. Ever elusive, perfection had once again slipped from his grasp, but waking up in Aang’s arms was so close to perfect that he could almost forget all of the baggage they carried between them.

For the first time in years, Zuko felt simple, unadulterated happiness. He would not ask for or expect anything more.

Eventually, Aang awakened. He peered up at Zuko curiously with wide eyes as he blinked away his sleepiness.

"Hey," Zuko said.

"Hello," Aang replied cheerfully, reaching his hand up to touch Zuko's cheek.

Zuko knew that he was smiling stupidly, but he couldn't seem to bring himself to care. After all, Aang was grinning at him with an equal amount of unfiltered affection, relief, and best of all, contentment. Zuko kissed him. He couldn't help it. Aang was his now, and he was never going to get enough of him.

"I could get used to this," he said lightly, running his hand along Aang’s side. The other man shivered in delight and pressed closer.

“You’d better,” Aang replied, rolling over to perch on top of Zuko, holding himself up with his elbows. “I plan to make up for lost time.”

“That’s no small amount of time,” Zuko said, only half-teasingly.

Unfazed, Aang beamed like the sun, dazzlingly bright and unapologetically fierce. He pressed their foreheads gently together. Zuko felt like he had been set ablaze with that single, uncomplicated touch. It was a splendid feeling. And when Aang whispered words against his lips, a hot flare of elation ignited in Zuko’s stomach:

“I accept your challenge.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first story in a trilogy. In the next installment, we will learn more about both Aang and Zuko’s children, as well as what happened to Mai. Keep your eyes out for it!
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this one. Thank you for reading! I am infinitely grateful for your support, which inspires me every day.


End file.
